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if i look back, i am lost

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@an-alien-writes
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Bleep bloop
Bloop Bleep
@iyearnfortheyaoi-rpf
Between Light & Shadow
The urge to be seen… yet remain unnoticed.
I know it sounds like a contradiction — maybe it is.
I want to be seen.
But I don’t want to be looked at.
I want to be understood without dissecting myself piece by piece.
Yet the moment the attention turns toward me, I feel exposed — like someone pulled the curtains open without warning.
I don’t crave attention.
I don’t know how to hold it.
It tightens my chest, makes me question every word, every expression.
And still… I want to matter.
When someone surprises me, my heart lights up for a second —
then the panic rushes in.
Am I reacting right?
Am I too much? Too little?
Am I doing this thing called “being human” correctly?
It’s exhausting —
wanting connection
but fearing perception.
And yet, there’s this quiet strength in me.
I open up more to people I know I’ll never see again.
Strangers feel safer.
I speak more where I am less known —
where judgmental eyes are closed
and expectations don’t exist.
There’s freedom in knowing that if the conversation collapses,
if I stumble over my words,
if I show too much —
it won’t define me.
I won’t be trapped by their version of me.
Maybe that’s where my courage begins —
in temporary spaces,
in fleeting moments,
in choosing to speak anyway.
Is it weakness to hide —
or strength to decide when to be seen?
This, I loved speaking and being friends with forgetful people, because all the mistakes I feel I made won't be remembered. But now I'm older I realized "I'm a human being and I'm allowed to exist" and nothing stops you being a human worthy of patience and accommodation, no stutter or confusion no failure of instantly understanding. Nothing so simple as being different, as being neuro-divergent or having complicated emotions stops you from being human. You ARE allowed to exist, to trip on nothing, to choke on air, to get food on your clothes and have greasy hair. You are still a human and still allowed, and in the moments it feels like the world would have you ashamed, it's then that you remind yourself you matter you add to the statistics of people similar to you, you make it safer for the other anxious people, being "aesthetic" isn't helping anyone, so it's really okay being you, it's kinda beautiful that you exist.
I believe that facets of a character's identity should be textually addressed only to the extent that those facets are directly relevant the narrative, which is why I exclusively write stories about featureless hovering orbs.
reblog to give the person you reblogged this from the motivation to finish a wip

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Dora's Journey
For as long as Dora could remember, her world was a storm, a crazy whipping frenzy, she would walk along the many roads growing up, and find bramble stuck to her clothes, or it’s thorns in the souls of her shoes. Family was a liar, a thing of such sweetness that you find with rot. But deep down Dora loved Family, in a destructive and selfless way, sometimes she would walk and wonder if one day she would wake to find herself the Bramble, or herself the apparel they clung to.
On some of the roads that she travelled all she found was thorns and lines of red, but the path was below her feet, this was the way for her to go, the only direction for her to walk. She had met Family as a child and resolved to split herself in two, one to keep safe and the other to walk the road. The thing about archiving a part of you let alone half of you, is one day they won’t exist, in any meaningful way.
It was a sunny afternoon, as much as Dora could tell the time on this road, when Dora noticed a shadow, an unordinary shadow, true soul Shadow was kind in her own way, a comfort, one that Dora was quite sure she’d missed for a while now that she felt the absence with this new presence. It felt familiar, like Family’s lies and Bramble’s thorns, cold like the memory of something Long Since Dead.
The sun shining down onto the path showed up the great looming figure, just behind her, than she felt it, the moment the weight fell on her shoulders, the pain sinking to her bones. The secret ‘safe’ part of her ran, ran as far from this horror as it could manage and heard the scream as if floating with the clouds. Dora heard the scream inside and outside herself, it deafened her, numbed her.
She would keep walking, it was her purpose to keep walking, Bramble seemed to smile around her, it felt like mourning. The Parasite ‘would never’ laugh and scoff and mock, loving that she still kept walking, but she felt deep down that it was thrilled that it could hurt her that deeply and she would just carry on and on and on, walking down this road.
When Dora could feel even just the road beneath her feet again it was dark and the Bramble was lessening in the hedgerows, as if her new companion had banished Bramble, like maybe it wouldn’t be able to touch her again, hurt her again. The grief she felt at that was deep but not unexpected, every child loves their Mother, even the cruel ones.
With the absence of Bramble came the absence of Friend, a small child that would trot along with her sometimes, the grief they share flowed between them like Family’s promises. The betrayal of having to let the one Long Since Dead go, just slip away without any consequence, without any responsibility taken for the scars that they had etched onto their hearts, Dora hated the lies Family so sweetly whispered to anything with a heart, Friend hated Human and the namesake that had cost the one to be Long Since Dead. Friends were dangerous, being Friends with Human was deadly.
The one Long Since Dead had taken, and demanded and stolen. It seemed to Dora that that fact was just a part of the road, a part of the landscape of her life, that Family lied. Was she resentful?.. No. Love hurt, walking hurt, life hurt, and Family lied. All just truths, like the truth that the one Long Since Dead had taken stolen so much from Bramble, from – herself and from Friend. There was a tragic gratefulness that Friend didn’t remember the first seven hundred years of their youth, and something tormenting that Friend could remember the one Long Since Dead’s death.
Friend didn’t like or trust Parasite, and Dora, the secret Dora knew that the lonely long walk that followed was all Parasites fault, but in that moment, it felt like freedom, it felt like like walking away, away from Family and the old knife edges, away from lies, and it felt so familiar that Dora couldn’t see any reason not to trust it, trust this. Even if in the daylight it was a road, a weight and a walk.
A bit about Statue
When Statue was young, really young, she was a child. And yes she used to like to think about herself as a she. But that was a long time ago. The point was… Statue wasn’t a child anymore, not even flesh and bone. Hadn’t been for seven hundred years. But back then, when Statue was a child, it remembers a Brother, a Mother and a Father.
Her Mother had been a blazing fire, warm and strong, passionate about the Human and their crafts, their arts and their wars. Her quick tempers gone in a flash, breaking points that would shatter and splinter and her children would get caught in the storm. Some paper cuts never heal. Sun was her title, Mama was a memory from long ago.
Her Father was a Man, so flawed that the love that came from within him was controlling yet caring, a force so powerful that there was nowhere to hide in the night, hard-working and generous, emotions and the intelligence to understand them, use them, let them flow away, to grieve and to change was stunted and held so tightly in the cage of his chest. Even hundreds of years on and the change in him is so painfully slow. His title is Moon, Father… Dad, so close to Statue and yet so silent and wounded.
Now, Statue, as immovable as Family and Will would let her be, tried. Oh Statue tried but it seemed so pointless to try when you where practically a glorified sun dial. Statue really tried not to fester, Stone can only grieve when Weather is crying, but still Statue tried. Tried not to let anger consume them, not let their Mother’s fire and their Father’s spotlight irreparably silence them.
Her Brother, The Animal. All Statue remembered was a playmate and a child, then a pain so deep and betrayal so far away from Statues heart and yet so entwined in her very makeup. The splinters from Sun had scared them both, and Statue’s Brother became a Statue of The Animal, and yet his soul had so much freedom and movement, Statue would watch him play with the light, in the ripples of water and in the shadows of clouds. Dancing and prancing, the deer and the squirrel wolves and lynx, all a cacophony of feeling that Family would be wistfully painfully proud of. Statue wished it had never met Family and yet sometimes they were the only thing keeping it… her awake and alive.
Ani is what she used to call her Brother, The Animal was too long and impersonal for friends as they were, but sometimes the wolf would bite, the ants would leave her itching. So she matched him in the game, and her words where her ammo, sharp as Weather’s ice and her Mother’s glass, regret was as potent as moonlight, but she played the game that Ani set. Now Statue thinks in the end they both lost.
Love is hard when your bleeding, it’s nearly impossible when you’re made of stone. Hugs become one sided and fade away. Words once soft now so much a chore they become blunted and flat, once a power Statue wielded like a shield, were permanently trapped inside, Family’s the only one that can coax the strength and softness from it, the only one it trusted with a piece of her heart, but even if Family was its best friend, even they got her barbs, bitterness, pain and accusation maybe even more for the fact.
Once a long time ago Statue had Ward, she was so small and smiley. She would dance like Ani but didn’t like their game, but Statue and Ani still played it, Statue with its ammo of words and Ani with his Biting bugs and bleeding wounds. Ward loved them with the force of Family’s heart. But Ward was just a child, her body and mind should have been loved back with the same force, she wasn’t. A statue of stone, stood for hundreds and hundreds of years, doesn’t know how to show regret or ask for forgiveness, it only knows how to dig a deeper hole as it were, because at the end of the day, Statue was a statue.
The Pain of Insomnia and Night Owlish Ways
Nights of great length out weigh the sunny days and sleep is left in the ditch, the love of day is only because humans then abound.
But shackled to an awakened night is like being locked in a nasty pendulum of time.
Where all the pain you have is your body's hated of itself.
Where no hope of sleep or the smile of sunshine slowly kills you inside.
Sat wishing, you ponder, will life ever change?
Oh how many times have I escaped this prison tried, but somebody, something, myself catches me again, trapped again in this futile cell, this wasting horror of time.
Will sleep and time ever be aligned for me?
Will I ever see all the sunshine of a full day?
"No" this prison says, laughter pierces my deafened ears.
“No!” I cry.
At last I understand, freedom is a joke or maybe a hope, endurance is the only answer, so I promise myself I’ll try and I will win my days again.
Someday.
Ode To My Parents
I was born to worry,
About you.
Because you,
Showed me what love means.
By the Alien 👽
Thank you @ourhomealien and everyone who got me to 10 reblogs!
Ode To My Parents
I was born to worry,
About you.
Because you,
Showed me what love means.
By the Alien 👽

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Sheila and Craftie have an office picnic.
It was the third week of February on the usual day that Craftie showed up and that Sheila had dubbed Charlton's Day, and Craftie didn't show up and Sheila felt that she missed them, and the week past and it was Charlton's day to come again and this time they did. Sheila distinctly remembers that day, one because she'd missed them and two because, oh my days what are they wearing. Sheila will tell you that, no she wasn't anxiously waiting for them and no she wasn't continuingly glancing at the door, but the truth is she noticed, oh did she notice.
When a fluffy jumper, baggy jeans wearing person came through the doors shoulder and back first, their beanie sticking up and Sheila was curious, who is this little human all cutely bundled up, yes I know they're taller then me. But not by much, so when they turned around and Sheila got a face pull of coffee cups and sweet smelling paper bags she jumped in her seat, gently moving the offerings aside careful not to touch the person 'It's you' Sheila beamed but then realising herself coughed and asked as nonchalantly as possible 'Where've ya been?' Craftie grinned 'did you miss me, sweetie?' Sheila just raised her eyebrow as she was wont to do when Craftie was involved.
"Anyway what's all this and I hope you didn't come on your bike like that, and I hope you haven't been smoking as much, because it's really dangerous and...' Sheila stopped mid flow, her arms dropping from where they'd been flying about in her excitement, Craftie was staring at her, just stood there in her silly beanie and cute clothes, well they're cute to me okay, she thought sulkerly, crossing her arms and folding slightly forwards. 'I'll take that as you did miss me,' and quieter she almost whispered 'I took the bus, I wanted to buy you snacks' Sheila was gobsmacked. 'okay... Wait did you say you took the bus,' before she could finish Craftie jumped in 'yes I know you probably think it's just as dangerous as a moterbike, knowing you anyway, but it's actually nicer than I thought it would be and anyway, snacks!' she emphasized this by pointing at the snacks with a flourish of her arms. 'no I was going to say that's really cool, kinda brave even, although you do usually ride a motorbike, then again different experiences' Sheila sipped on the Yorkshire tea offered her gratefully, it was warm and tasty and stopped her saying something stupid, no it doesn't 'I think you look really cute by the way' she blurted out, 'sorry, if you don't mind me saying so, and I don't think that all the time of course, I mean most of the time I think you're kinda hot' Sheila slapped a hand over her big mouth and looked over at Craftie so shocked at herself.
Craftie burst out laughing and then smiled the most genuinely Sheila had seen her smile. 'Thank you Sheila, I don't mind as long it's you who thinks I'm cute, even if it's just sometimes' Craftie winked at her and Sheila cringed at herself. pulling out a napkin with a doughnut inside 'I didn't really know what you would like, but didn't think you'd want anything sweet unless it was chocolate or winter spicy somehow. Anyway I also got custard doughnuts just incase' Craftie smiled at her holding the doughnut out almost expectantly. Sheila was grinning too because somehow this strange reckless human in front of her had only missed out one other treat she liked, which is insane considering we haven't known eachother that long, she thought taking the doughnut 'biscuits, they're the only other sweet things I adore,' under her breath she whispered 'and you it would seem'
But Craftie thankfully didn't seem to notice. Biting into the doughnut Sheila looked over at Craftie 'you should wear a coat still, even with a jumper, remember to wear one next time' Craftie rolled their eyes at Sheila watchas she basically devoured the doughnut. After eating some snacks and splitting the leftovers they got down to business than it was time for Craftie to go 'I'll bring biscuits next time' she said while waving, half way through the door 'be careful on the bus "Charlton", and thanks for the snacks' Sheila waved back and she could hear Craftie saying 'yeah yeah, see ya Sweetie' Sheila smiled and finished her day already looking forward to next week.
Sam and Mattie have a cuddle session
Rated: Mature/E under the read more
This is really sweet tbh
Mattie approached Sam like a snake slyly slithering up to him, slouching slightly to rest his head on Sam's shoulder and hugging him from behind. Mattie let his hands roam and lightly touched Sam's belly, holding him like they're precious. Kissing where Sam's check and neck meet. Mattie loved kissing him, hugging him.
Sam saw Mattie a mile away and pretended they didn't, as Mattie's arms threaded through his arms he rested backwards and sighed, being loved by Mattie was so easy, feeling surrounded by his height, bringing him low to shower his affection so openly on him, on him! He felt a lump in his throat and turn in Mattie's arms, 'love you' he whispered and hugged Mattie back, muscles meeting and softly giving to fill eachothers spaces.
Mattie straightened up and held Sam close for a moment before moving his hands to the back of Sam's head and looking down in his eyes pouring all of his devotion into the look, leaning forward into him, he nipped at Sam's lips softly placing a kiss there, 'love you too Samuel' he winked and kissed him again, this time for a longer peck, making an exaggerated kissing noise when he was finished. Still holding eachother closed, Mattie leaned into him with his head on Sam's shoulder again.
Sam scoffed when Matthew called him Samuel, but then he kissed them so what was he supposed to do lol, he liked Mattie's kisses, they were stupid and always unexpected, sometimes messy and uncivilised, sometimes sweet and corny, Sam thought maybe Mattie was just going to leave their encounter as a long, comfy, delicious hug session but then he broke the silence with 'I want you, is that mutually agreeable?' with no preamble, Sam squeezed him in reply, 'I'd like to help, yeah!' he rolled his eyes, pulling Mattie along by the hand.
They moved at a slow pace just enjoying holding hands, walking and kissing, till they made it to their bedroom leaving a felt rose in the basket as a do not disturb sign. Sam loved their height difference, he fit right under Mattie's chin, and so he held Mattie's other hand too as he stepped forward and leaned up, kissing Mattie's Adams apple, before opening his mouth and feeling it with his tongue, he could feel Mattie's breathing and he could hear their heartbeat, Sam loved annoying him with his sloppy kisses. Moving their hands up he asked 'would you keep you hands in one place if I asked you?' before continuing to kiss his neck.
Mattie didn't mind how this was going, it was sweet and felt good it always felt good with Sam, so he let sam know that, 'I would, love, for you' he Sharply took a breath as Sam bit down on his shoulder, now he was the one who made the exaggerated popping noise 'really, for me you say, interesting' Sam looked up at him with a sparkle in his eyes and it made Mattie want to grin down at him, he loved seeing Sam from this angle, his height ment he saw Sam in snapshots, he didn't get the whole picture and it was enticing, when he did get to see him it was down his nose, the irony not lost on him.
Sam knew that just as much as he loved the height difference so did Mattie, he could see it on his face, the way it would light up when he saw his face and the humour in his eyes that he was privately enjoying himself, Sam moved Mattie's hands around his back 'hold me darling' he teased and moved his hands up to caress Mattie's strong body, following the contours in their muscles, reveling in the comfy feel of alive warmth beneath his fingers, Sam kissed him though their white t-shirt and felt happy.
WIP Song Prompts
\"May I touch you?" Not a could I, not a request or asking for permission to do something you've been longing to do. It's a reaching out in concern, hoping they let you in so you can comfort them or just ground them. Romantic, but healing is priority No1.
\"Fade to black" Amy Winehouse's ending style but lighter a higher octave(?). Bittersweet, time travelling but through memories. Poem song, no chorus, maybe a bridge.
\"It all fades to black, yeah, it all fades the black" Drums, indie pop style(coldplay), rising intensity, crescendo. About break up or the end of things, about finality. "We all fade to black eventually, why not right now" losing memories and losing loved ones. (death and dementia) One of the verses means "I'm losing memories, it all fades to black." Another means "I've lost them and others will lose me, its all fades to black"
|21 billion had the practice, but we're still shocked when it happens to us, that it all fades to black| (dying)
|Yesterday I saw my mum, tomorrow maybe I'll remember she died years ago.| 3rd person but introspective.
|Don't get old they said, I said it too, 20 years ago.|
(The new Taylor Swift and My goodness, were a first impression); Fourth March 2024.
\"I'm always accelerating for you. wasting away for you" bass. Soul (Radiohead and Coldplay);
Sheila 2025
IT was one of Sheila's special days and she didn't want to do it, she was already too hot and too tired, but she'd embarrassed herself to be here, as a motivation is what she told herself, it wasn't that she regretted it, it was more that she just wanted a break for today a reprieve from the burning a respite from the warmth. She hoped she hurt after this, that she could punish that spark inside them that forced her to do this twice a week. They'd had a long day and usually this was her relief from that, it'd been three days and the stress was piling up. Sheila gathered together her chosen means of meditation and in her room she started to undress, folding her work clothes up and laying them on her bed for later, the cold air of her flat touched her skin and made them sigh, her eyes closed.
She was objectively poor, she had good homemade food and she managed her bills but only her head was afloat, she couldn't swim, she couldn't rest. It felt like only a matter of time before she drowned, not from debt she promised herself, but maybe bankruptcy would kill her. Saving money and bettering yourself was impossible in this city.
Opening her eyes they were a new being, a subservient and the served, with new eyes she sorted the old clothes into the laundry baskets and got out new clothes for the girl who would need them. That girl walked to the bathroom and turned on the water. Someone had broken the boiler a long time ago and it didn't regulate the heat anymore it was dangerously hot. The girl knelt by the small tub and watched quietly as the hot water rose up and hot condensation filled the room, the ground was old rough wood, too soft in some parts, it needed tiling but she wasn't to complain. She was to watch, she was to fill a bath up with hot hot water, she tested the half filled bath and found it was 40°c, turning the cold tap on the girl waited until the thermometer had a reading of 33°c turning both taps off, she picked up a weighted waterproof belt and cuffs and with silence she worked. Adding weights to ankles and wrists, finally picking up the belt made with pockets to carry weights, she buckled it securely around her waist.
Making a step into the hot water, taking a breath when the burning seeped into skin up to calves, lowering slowly to knees, slowly resting on ankles, breathing picking up, unsteady, the girl know she had to steadily gain control, her breathing returned to a steady in and out as her lower body got used to the burn. The girl started to breathe in all the way one could and breathe out as completely as one could, retaking a full breath, the girl lowered all the way underwater, stretching out legs and arms, feeling the tug of war between gravity and buoyancy. The burn traveled up her back and hit her face, and with all the dangers she was in she relaxed consciously, letting the oxygen travel slowly through her body, imagining herself laying in a hot spring with the sun shining down on her.
Hearing the first bell, she rose and let out her breath, taking another and letting it leave fully, then retaking fully. Resupplying her oxygen was as relaxing as it was practiced, every 30-40 seconds a bell would ring. Sinking again she waited for the next 39 bells before she could rest. Burning would slowly become heat and warmth and she would be a bit dizzy and her heart would race and the girl would observe and learn and Shelia would have catharsis in her little bubble of 'breathe, remember to breathe and imagine a better life.'
Sheila had been holding this ritual with herself since she was twelve years old. Now the water was hotter and her body was weighted properly, now she held this twice a week, now she fought for a two hour unpaid break at work on Mondays and Thursdays, now she had been having special days for over ten years. As the last bell rang the girl rose up for the final time and letting the water flow away she mourned the loss of this world. Rising from her knees she padded her way back to the room of another, drying a body, drying hair, dressing in new clothes, slipping back on the work clothes left folded on the bed. As Sheila finished tying up her hair in a claw clip, she looked at herself in the mirror they were a new being, served and subservient, ready to face the world again for a little while, maybe just maybe this was a good reminder of what this ritual did for her, maybe it was a reminder that she hadn't grown up at all.
Soul Bonding World Building
A soul-bound is a subconscious compass you get to another person when you marry, so they become your north. It feel like when you're at your family home and your family is in separate rooms but you know the house so well and the people in it so well that you instinctively know where all your family members are, thats how the soul-bound feels.
This made platonic marriage between friends more prevalent because it's the only KNOWN way to soul-bound with someone.
When either one of the two parties die there's a pull, pop, break, blip, emotional nothingness. Like the mental blindness you get from driving past trees or fences and the sun's shining behind them.
Marriage, it can be more than one person, but this is only usually done when everyone's emotions are involved and they're all committed.
Divorce, sometimes it breaks leaving you reeling; sometimes it sticks and you hate it, the worst is Death.
Death, sometimes when someone permadies away from their spouse the soul-bound stays and the widow(er) has to deal with their subconscious compass pointing to their grave site.
Heavily inspired by Milo-hypno's au on ao3
@milo-hypno
Thank you and everyone who got me to 5 reblogs!

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Brent Spiner
The vaguest most subtle spoilers up ahead
(when I use the term Brent Spiner I'm using it to mean the chareters he plays in star trek as a collective term)
Brent Spiner is the docter of the star trek universe.
The Docter is one person who regenarates into many faces.
Brent Spiner is one face who regenenarates into many people.
Brent spiner isn't the type of person who has his fingers in all the pies, he's the type of person that the pies were grown on his fingers.
Story idea, and they were roommates. WIP
Main reason for idea:
The word "thing" as a word for a romantic relationship. But the autistic friend likes to take everything seriously;
Plot points:
Joanna and Tommy Are Not dating it's just Tommy thinks he's in love. (He is, with his roommate)
A friend group
Characters in studies:
Tammy is very emotionally intelligent, she get distracted very easily, but she can be like a dog with a bone when something or someone captures her.
Characters:
Sassy girl boss(Shakira), male autistic roomate main character(Mikey), spare girlfriend(Joanne), male roomate(Tommy), spare best friend(Tammy);
Dialogue:
"I'm trusting you, please don't get in the way of my thing with Joanne, it's very new." Tommy.
"What thing, what's a thing." Mikey
"You know, a Theing." Tommy pronounces it strangely but doesn't answer the question, Mikey huffs
"A thing is another word for relationship." Shakira say's abruptly with a fond eye roll at Tommy before looking over at Mike.
"Oh, okay." Mikey says very enthusiastically then he shrugs and goes back to whatever he was doing.
"Hey Tommy, me and Mike are your favourite and bestest wingmen, we won't let you down." It was Tommy's turn to eye roll at Shakira's teasing.
Another time later...
At small house party Tommy hosted at their apartment.
"Oh, that's exactly like mine and Tommy's thing." Mikey said randomly joining into the conversation that was happening around him on the couch he was sat on.
"No, Mikey," Shakira whispered, "a thing is a romantic relationship."
"Oh, okay," Mikey smirked (Mikey pulled a sly face)?
And Shakira just looked confused at the faces he was pulling.
The next time Tommy and Mikey talk...
A week after the party Mikey comes home with Tammy his new "girlfriend".
Earlier...
At their favourite coffee shop bakery.
Mikey talking to his friend Tammy, "Tammy... Would you be mad if I asked you for a favour," Mikey asked the next part as fast as he could, "could we date as friends like completely platonically, you see I like this guy and he likes this girl, but then he comes home to me and does the oddest stuff," he slowed down at this point just rambling, "he's affectionate and cuddly and he's always complimenting me, he warms me up to high temperatures, and he's weirdly protective too" Mikey had started zoning out at this point just enjoying his memories and his own thoughts, mumbling softly to himself every now and then.
Tammy started making a racket with her milkshake, playing with her straw. "Mikey!?" she abruptly spoke then realising how loud she started, looking around she continued at a normal volume. Mikey looked up met her eye for a moment then looked sheepish for a second before grinning at her.
"I'm all up for platonically dating you, all day long every day, but I don't understand how this is connected to your boy?" Mikey felt like Tammy was staring into his soul, her eyes were that piercing as she looked at him without blinking.
Random bits:
Tammy, (but I don't understand how two queers in a hetro relationship are gonna get any);